You Don’t Say?
We both love to eavesdrop. As we sat in the setting sun, surrounded by trees beginning to shed their leaves, we listened in on the conversations at the picnic tables around us at the German Tourist Club.
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“We were at this party. I told him my name was Mary. He replied with, ‘Quite contrary?’ I then said, ‘Hey, shouldn’t we be talking about cockshells?’ ‘Cock shells? Or cockleshells?…”
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“What are you doing?” he asked his wife. “It’s better this way,” she asserted as she poured a grapefruit Juice Squeeze into an otherwise perfectly fine glass of beer.
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“See, the best part is, people confuse us. So if I don’t want to talk to a guy, I ignore him. He calls my name, ‘Wendy, Wendy, hey, Wendy,’ and I respond, ‘Wendy? My name’s Lisa.’ It works until we’re both at the same party together, both claiming to be the same person…”
